


Migraine

by kmc995



Category: Free!
Genre: A lot - Freeform, Headaches & Migraines, M/M, Nausea, Sickfic, throwing up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 12:35:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2229219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kmc995/pseuds/kmc995
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m fine, really guys.” He smiled as reassuringly as he could. “It’s just a small headache.” The skeptical aura he could practically feel emanating off Haru’s almost expressionless form made him shiver. Haruka, of all people, knew his history with “small headaches.”</p><p>Makoto suffers a migraine and Haru takes care of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Migraine

**Author's Note:**

> Headcannon: Makoto was diagnosed with Migraines and has been dealing with them ever since he was young.
> 
> I would like to point out that I, myself, have been diagnosed with Migraines for years now (for those of you who don't know, migraines are just really severe headaches). So everything Makoto goes through is 100% genuine.
> 
> This can be viewed as a couple MakoHaru fic, or just friendship MakoHaru fic. It's up to you guys.
> 
> Unedited because it is 2 in the morning and I just wanted to post this.

Headaches sucked.

Headaches that were borderline migraines? Even worse.

 _Ughhh…_ Makoto resisted the urge to lay his head down on the desk. The normally pleasing sunlight coming from the giant window to his left assaulted his eyes and made him wish for once that the blinds were closed. Pinching the bridge of his nose was unhelpful and the droning voice of the professor did nothing but instill a small sense of guilt over the fact that he was in truth not really listening to a word he was saying. His notebook had a few half-assed scribbles at the top, but they would do him no good later when he needed them, for sure.

He put his glasses back on for a moment, only to look at the clock and curse softly in his mind. Though this class was all but over, there was still lunch and hours of suffering left to the school day. Not to mention swim practice. It definitely wasn’t often, but the Captain wished he could skip, just for today.

He jumped when the bell rang, just enough for him to feel the heat rising to his cheeks. All class he had avoided looking to the left due to the offending light, but he instinctively squinted over to see his best friend shooting him an inquisitive look. Makoto smiled and quickly focused on collecting his things before asking, “Ready?”

“…Yeah.” And they were off. They made their way to their usual lunch spot just before Nagisa and Rei came up the stairs. Makoto made sure to sit in the shadiest corner against the wall in hopes that his headache wouldn’t worsen. Not that there was much shade out here on the sunny rooftop.

“Mako-chan! Haru-chan!” Nagisa bounded over, yanking an indignant Rei over by the arm. “Look, look! I raised my grades!” He brandished a paper with an 88 on it and beamed.

“Nagisa, that’s only one paper for one class. I told you – you can’t celebrate yet until you’ve improved in all classes,” Rei drawled, fixing his glasses and skillfully untangling his arm from the blonde’s grasp.

Nagisa pouted. “Don’t be so mean, Rei-chan.” He stuffed the paper unceremoniously back into his bag and pulled out a plastic wrapped bread. Makoto looked at Haru as his friends bickered about what a healthy lunch should be to find him looking at him in return. “Did you forget your lunch today?” He hoped his smile didn’t show any traces of the escalating nausea he was starting to feel. Nausea always accompanied his headaches, without fail.

Haru looked to the side. “No,” he said and both he and Makoto could tell that was a lie. “Here,” Makoto brandished his unopened bento to his friend. “I’m not hungry,” he reasoned truthfully. Eating anything would just make him sick.

This earned him another curious stare. Makoto chose to ignore it and continued to hold his lunch out. When he still didn’t move, he gently grasped Haru’s wrist and brought his hand over to the box where he dropped it and let go of his friend. “There’s no mackerel, sorry.” Makoto looked away before his smile slid off his lips. He could feel the color drain from his face in the telltale sign that a hurried trip to the bathroom would be imminent. He hated throwing up and he hated making other people worry.

He took some deep, slow breaths in an attempt to get his stomach under control. He hugged his knees to his chest as if to protect his innards from any more aggravation and would have rocked himself back and forth in an effort to sooth his belly if he hadn’t been aware of how hard that would be to explain. He waited with bated breath for the feeling to pass and, thankfully, it did. For the moment at least. Makoto let out a silent sigh of relief and closed his eyes.

“Mako-chan?” Nagisa got his attention from where he was sitting across from him. “Are you okay? You look really pale.” He saw Rei swallow some rice before studying his senpai as well.

“Ahh, I’m fine—”

“He’s sick,” Haru cut off his weak excuse with a deadpan explanation, supposedly leaving no room for denial.

Makoto gaped at him, nonetheless. “But – no—” He stumbled through his response. Haru’s glare shut him up. Had he really been that obvious?

Nagisa gasped dramatically at this revelation. “Mako-chan!”

“I’m fine, really guys.” He smiled as reassuringly as he could. “It’s just a small headache.” The skeptical aura he could practically feel emanating off Haru’s almost expressionless form made him shiver. Haruka, of all people, knew his history with “small headaches.” Not entirely fair, if you ask Makoto. He should have known that he’d be able to pick out the symptoms. Despite years of attempting to conceal the severity of his condition, Makoto was never able to hide from his best friend. He’d been there through the worst of fits, after all.

Disregarding the raven-haired teen’s silent worrying, Makoto easily calmed Nagisa’s and Rei’s own concerns; he didn’t need his kouhai’s to know as it was _not that big a deal_ – which he wordlessly tried to convey to Haru, since he seemed to be so willing to read him right now.

* * *

 

Lunch period ended with a bell and an increased urge to curl into a ball and sleep. Nagisa and Rei were already packed up and off towards their next classes, yelling a hasty “see you at the pool!” Haru waited patiently for him to pick himself up off the ground – a feat that was unexpectedly overwhelming. The sudden movement was not very nice to his already unsteady mind and he couldn’t help the distressed gasp that escaped his lips. It seemed as if that one action was the catalyst for the unbearably piercing stabs of pain he called a full-blown migraine to start coming into play. He needed to go home before it _did_ become a full-blown migraine.

Hands suddenly pulled his own away from his head. Haru’s blue eyes looked deep into his own green ones. He must have seen something in them, for they were suddenly in motion. Makoto couldn’t help but wince as his whole body jerked down the stairs and down the hallway. “Haru – wait,” he tried to warn the shorter male, but he just kept on pulling. Makoto didn’t question it when he was brought outside again, though his stomach did lurch when the sunlight once again impaled his sensitive eyes.

A minute later the two teens were making their way down the well-worn path they usually took to and from school. Makoto was surprised when he felt nothing of the guilt he should be feeling at their ditching of class. Later he would probably torture himself over it, but right now his hammered head was only able to pound to the realization that it would soon have the rest it needed. Hopefully.

Twice on the journey back, however, Makoto needed to stop. Embarrassed and thoroughly disgusted with himself, he threw up that morning’s breakfast in an inconspicuous bush and behind an innocent rock. Haru said nothing when this happened, only turned around to give him some privacy and hand him a tissue out of his own backpack which he just realized Haru had been carrying along with his own one-strap. He would have to thank him later.

Finally on the shrine steps after what felt like forever, Makoto was guided into Haru’s house where he slipped his shoes off as quickly as he could manage in the hopes of running to the bathroom for another violent food return. He made it just in time to not make a complete mess of Haru’s home. All he could hear was the roaring in his ears. Thank goodness he’s not an obnoxiously loud puker like his father. A weird thing to be grateful for, yes, but a good thing nonetheless.

After a quick cleanup and a rinsing of his mouth, he dragged himself out the door. He just needed to lay down with an ice pack and some warm covers. For some reason, whenever he got one of his migraines, he would not only get unnecessarily sick every five minutes, but he would get unreasonably cold. Even if it was the middle of the hot season, like it is right now.

“Sorry, Haru,” he managed to choke out through the pain in his head. His voice was rough from the excessive work out it just went through. He managed to lift his head so he could find Haru’s eyes. Haru stood there with a pair of clothes tucked in his arms and a bucket hanging by his side. “It’s fine, don’t apologize for something like that.”

“Mmh,” Makoto responded with a noncommittal noise. He followed Haru back to his room, keeping his eyes trained on the shorter male’s shoulders so as to not focus on how utterly gross he feels.

His room was dim; the only source of light being the sunshine pouring through the one window. “Here, put these on.” Haru handed him an orange hoodie and dark grey sweats that were both way too big to be his, so Makoto assumed that he must have left them here at some point in time. He silently thanked his friend as he stripped out of his stiff uniform and welcomed the warmth that was baggy clothes. As he buried his nose in the cotton neck of the hoodie, he vaguely noticed that it smelt like Haru.

“Lay down,” the dark-haired male commanded. “I’ll wash your uniform.” He placed the bucket he’d been holding right next to the bed before he dutifully picked up his discarded uniform and headed towards the laundry room. Makoto stared listlessly at the bucket for a moment. The purpose of said bucket was fairly obvious. The thought of puking anywhere but the bathroom made him feel uncomfortable for some reason.

Dismissing the thought, the brunet laid down and buried himself under Haru’s blue and white stripped covers. The fabric, though thin, successfully blocked out the light that was pouring in through the window. He was too lazy to get up and shut the blinds, so this would have to do. He curled into the smallest ball he could manage and willed himself to sleep. Sleep would mean a break from this incessant mental drubbing.

He was exhausted. The acute pain seemed to drain every spare ounce of energy that he had. Despite this, he knew that sleep would be hard to find. It’s hard to fall asleep when your mind was being bombarded by mental hammers.

Minutes, maybe seconds, passed by when he vaguely heard Haru shuffle in and move about. He felt the bed dip near his head and was pretty sure that Haru was leaning over him. He didn’t bother checking to see what he was doing.

“Makoto,” he heard him whisper.

“Mmmmm,” he whined in distress, too overwhelmed with the war in his mind to offer a proper response. He got ready to wince as he felt the protective fabric that covered his eyes shift off his face but blinked instead when he was met with relative darkness. Haru must have drawn closed the curtains over the bed.

“Sorry, but here,” he gently draped a soothing wet cloth over his forehead. A small sense of relief washed over him as the chilly rag seemed to coat his mind in refreshing coolness. Though he was cold enough already, this was a most welcome gesture.

“I need you to sit up for just a second,” he requested softly. When he was met with silence, he lightly tapped Makoto’s shoulder. “You need to take some aspirin and drink some water.” The thought of disturbing his precariously comfortable position was an unpleasant one. If he moved, he felt he might lose the only sense of respite he had only just managed to find – small as it was. But synthetically-induced relief sounded pretty good – it was sure to help as it always had in the past. He knew the longer he waited to take them, the longer he’d have to wait for the pain-reducing properties to kick in. This thought alone had him weakly dragging himself into a sitting position, blindly searching for the medicine.

The pill was a large white one that tasted like powdery-chemicals the moment it touched his tongue. It was disgusting. He quickly washed it down with a large gulp of water from the glass Haru handed him. The dissolved residue that coated the back of his throat was washed away with another smaller sip. By pure force of will, Makoto was able to prevent himself from retching again. It would defeat the purpose if he threw up before the medicine could work its way into his system.

Haru tried to get him to drink the whole glass, but Makoto resolutely refused. He could barely hold down the few sips he’d already consumed. When Haru gave up, Makoto gingerly laid himself back down and assumed the fetal position once again. Haru was nice enough to re-soak the cloth in the bowl of ice-water he’d placed next to his alarm clock on the head of the bed before placing it back on him, lifting his bangs out of the way to allow for maximum contact between cloth and feverish skin. Silence ensued as the incapacitated teen once again attempted to slip into unconsciousness.

* * *

 

Sooner or later, Makoto was able to fall asleep. Haru would readjust the cloth every hour or so, making sure it was cool, a deed that the brunet appreciated every time he woke up. And he did wake up multiple times throughout the rest of the day – each time with the irresistible urge to throw up. After his second trip to the bathroom though (he just couldn’t bring himself to use the bucket), there was nothing left to purge but bile. His stomach was completely empty. He didn’t understand why he still had the overpowering urge to puke when his stomach had nothing in it, and felt exasperated every time it happened.

Every time he stirred, his head seemed to hurt a little less. After a total of four bathroom visits Makoto was eventually able to sleep for a few hours without interruption. When he finally woke up, the wash cloth was in a damp pile next to his face. He stared into the dark room, breathing deeply. He probed his mind warily and found only minute traces of the migraine he’d been suffering from. His head felt abused and sore – but it was the best feeling. No more pain, no more nausea. For the first time in so many hours, he let his tense body relax.

The alarm clock above his head showed that it was 11:13 at night. Haru and he had left school around 1:00pm, skipping the last five hours or so of classes. Makoto found it hard to believe that he’d been here for almost ten hours.

Slowly, he picked himself up. The blanket pooled around his waist as he rubbed at his eyes. Haru wasn’t in the room, so he must still be awake. He needed to figure out where his phone was so he could text his mother before it got too late, though 11:00pm was already pushing the limit. He stood, stretched, and made his way out of the room.

First, he went to the bathroom. He was pleased to find that the light barely bothered his eyes when he flicked on the switch. His glasses were on the side of the sink next to his white and green contact case – Haru must have got some of his things while he was passed out. He peeled his contacts out of his eyes and sighed contentedly at the sensation. He usually didn’t sleep with them in. He hadn’t even realized how uncomfortable they’d been resting on his eyes until he took them out.

Only after he put his glasses on did he risk a peek in the mirror. He didn’t look as bad as he thought he would. He had a horrible case of bed head and his eyes looked worn out and weary, but other than that he was fine.

He brushed his teeth extra well with the toothbrush he leaves at Haru’s, making sure to scrub away any bile residue – the acidic taste still lingered in his mouth. After rinsing, he debated on fixing his hair but decided against it. That problem could be dealt with in the morning.

Haru was watching some late night television when he made his appearance. He carefully claimed the floor space on the other side of the table and yawned. Though he had slept a lot, albeit fretfully, he was still exhausted. “Haru,” he croaked as a form of greeting.

Haru shifted closer and his lifted his small hand to brush his messy bangs back. His hands were cool and felt nice against his forehead. “Is your headache gone?” he asked, unnecessarily. He knew that Makoto wouldn’t be up if it wasn’t.

“Yeah.” He found himself missing the contact when his friend took his hand away.

“Are you feeling well enough to eat?”

Makoto thought about it. The empty void that was where his stomach should be was palpable, but just thinking about food made him nervous. “I’m not hungry,” he decided. He’d rather not risk it.

Haru seemed to sense his hesitation. “You’ve had nothing in your system almost all day. Do you think you could stomach some tea?”

“Maybe.” The thought of the warm beverage sounded more appealing than solid food, at least. “How about black?” he inquired.

“Sure,” he replied, already heating up some water on the stove. They sat in companionable silence as the water boiled. The television had been shut off earlier when Haru had gotten up. Soon enough, each boy had a steaming cup of black tea sitting in front of them. It fogged up his glasses when he brought it close to inhale the herbal aroma.

The first few sips were soothing on his over-worked throat, though the taste was compromised due to the minty aftertaste of the toothpaste. He hummed in gratitude as he held the warm mug in both hands. He finished his tea in record time. If he wasn’t so tired, he might have asked for a second cup. In fact, Makoto had started to doze off with his head propped up on one hand when Haru gently nudged him to full awareness again.

“Let’s go to bed,” the black-haired teen suggested, though it was really more of a command. Makoto was happy to agree, nevertheless, and so the two boys cleaned up their mugs and headed back into Haru’s bedroom.

It was just as Makoto had left it – the bed was a mess, and the wash cloth was still sitting in a sad pile on the sheets, creating a small wet ring in the area.

“It’s fine if we share,” Haru stated, already knowing the taller male wouldn’t object. Makoto nodded anyways and placed the cloth in the bowl of now luke-warm water as Haru picked up the blanket that was half-spilled on the carpeted floor. It was just then that Makoto noticed his phone on the work desk. It was plugged in, the charging screen flashing a dim 11:42pm. When he checked it, he found no new messages.

“I stopped by your house earlier and let them know you were here.” Haru explained, guessing at his train of thought.

“What about swim practice?” Oh, god. Gou was going to kill them both for ditching.

“I took care of it,” was his only answer.

The brunet smiled the first smile since they left school. It was warm and appreciative.

Makoto, after placing his glasses next to his phone, climbed into bed first. He scooted as close to the wall as he could in order to create room for the smaller male. They’d both crammed into this bed before; they knew how to make it work. Soon enough, both boys were cozily snuggled onto the single-person bed.

As Makoto was about to drift off to sleep, he remembered that tomorrow was Sunday – he could rest as much as he wanted. With that final happy thought, he entered the land of dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> Like I said: I suffer migraines from time to time, so everything I just put poor Makoto baby though is legit. I didn't have him throw up like 500 times just because I felt like it; that is literally what happens when I get a migraine. I get super nauseous and throw up like every 10 minutes. So I was not exaggerating anything in that aspect. 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed! It's horrible, but I love to see Makoto suffer. I also love to see Haruka take care of him. 
> 
> ~Krista
> 
> P.S. I just realized that almost every Free! story that I've written so far has started with the letter "M"...I swear it's unintentional.


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